


Bedtime

by kaylennz



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: Jedi Apprentice Series - Jude Watson & Dave Wolverton
Genre: A very different take on things, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bedtime Stories, Gen, Loss of Parent(s), Parent-Child Relationship, Short & Sweet, Short One Shot, Young Obi-Wan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-19
Updated: 2016-03-19
Packaged: 2018-05-27 16:35:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6291952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaylennz/pseuds/kaylennz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There was a time, in another life, when the prospect of spending an evening such as that in which he was currently engaged would have absolutely horrified him. And to actually enjoy it? Well, he just would never have thought it possible. Yet here he was, and there was no denying that there wasn't another place in the whole of the galaxy that he would rather be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bedtime

**Author's Note:**

> Beta: Special thanks to **Kasman** for the beta. She's my Supernatural beta but very graciously agreed to give this a look. The proper placement and appropriate usage of all commas is owed to her. Thanks, Karen :)

There was a time, in another life, when the prospect of spending an evening such as that in which he was currently engaged would have absolutely horrified him. And to actually enjoy it? Well, he just would never have thought it possible. Yet here he was. And there was no denying that there wasn't another place in the whole of the galaxy that he would rather be.

The small form snuggled comfortably next to him shifted, the head resting over his heart turning to look up at him with eyes that were still far too bright for lateness of the hour.

_Eyes so like his mother's._

Smiling in apology for the lapse in attention, he returned his focus to the evening's story of choice. He had no idea what it was about purple banthas and why it was if you gave them a qualla berry crumbcake they would want a glass of iced muju juice to go with it – but something about the tale never ceased to delight his little companion. It was a known favorite, and on this eve alone, the elder gentleman was on his third (and final) read through of the little fable.

Aware that the child next to him was stubbornly fighting the pull of sleep, he lowered his voice, softening it in an attempt to lull the boy towards peaceful oblivion. Towards the end, in a decidedly bold move, he skipped a few lines.

The slight weight against him stiffened, ready to protest.

Not a good idea then.

Smiling affectionately at the top of the child's head, he dropped a kiss on freshly washed, sweet-smelling hair and backtracked – picking up exactly where he left off. Tender amusement colored his voice as he felt the body next to him relax once again. Bedtime was serious business with this boy, and really, he knew better than to rush a story that had long since been memorized.

When the inevitable end did come, he deactivated the holo-cube and placed it on the boy's bedside table. He made no move to get up, but he could feel that the child was anticipating the movement, clearly distressed.

Frowning, his arm tightened around the child comfortingly, easing as the boy twisted enough to turn and look up at him. A tiny, dimpled chin settled on a pudgy little hand on his chest as the boy spoke.

"Stay?"

As if he could deny hope so blatantly displayed in those all too expressive chameleon eyes.

He smiled in acquiescence, mildly concerned at the obvious relief that flooded the child's face. All but melting into his father's embrace, the boy returned to his former position – assured that all would be well.

Stroking the soft rust colored locks, the elder of the two let his worry settle in the small crease between elegant brows. The nightmares did not occur often, but when they did, it was sometimes weeks before the young one felt safe enough to fall asleep on his own.

"More story?"

A yawn too big for the little one to hold back filled the space between them. Valiant yet futile resistance against sleep was a battle soon to be lost. The boy's father looked at the holo-cube he'd just set aside. With a sigh he reached for it, prepared to do whatever it took to put the child in his arms at ease.

"No." His father's hand paused mid way. "Mama story."

Ah, now that he could do.

Drawn to the picture that was always on display next to the child's bed, he let the back of his hand trail down the beautiful profile.

In the scope of his life, the time they'd spent together was actually very short. Yet the memories he carried with him, and the life they'd created, would sustain him forever.

He'd given up everything for her. Left the only life he'd ever known to be with her. Hurt someone who had meant so much to him, just to be with her.  
An impatient wiggle from the boy next to him broke his train of thought.

"Did you know that your mother was a senate page for Chancellor Vallorum when we met?" he asked.

He felt a small shake from the sleepy head on his chest.

"We didn't meet under the best of circumstances. I'm afraid she didn't like me very much at first."

The incredulous look he received at that tidbit warmed him.

"I know. Hard to imagine," he concurred, tucking the blankets around the boy as he continued.

In the year since her death it had gotten easier to talk about their time together. So much so that he talked for a long time after the boy in his arms finally, reluctantly, drifted off.

It was late when he finally slipped from beneath the sleeping form. He tucked a stuffed bantha in the space he vacated and stood looking for a long moment at his child. Obi-Wan had a beautiful innocence that never ceased to amaze him.

Memories of his late wife also brought forth those of his master and the choice he'd been forced to make. He was at peace with his decision to leave the Jedi, but not so much with how he went about doing so. His master had deserved better from him.

Not once in the five years since he'd left had he even contemplated what he was about to do. Making his way to the comm unit he sat down with the sudden urge to make amends with the man who had all but raised him.

Trepidation over what kind of reception he would receive had him bypassing the man's personal frequency code. His master could be on a mission anywhere in the galaxy. He did not want to distract the man if that were the case. Instead, he entered the code for the quarters they'd shared at the temple on Couruscant.

Outwardly, he was the picture of patience as the connection was made, inwardly; he was growing more and more uncertain. He could pretend all he wanted that this man's opinion of his value meant nothing - but he knew better. He didn't want to pretend anymore.

The screen before him remained neutral, colorless, as the call went unanswered. Disappointment filled him. A part of him truly believed that if this were meant to be that the force would be in agreement and all would just fall into place. Obviously, he was a little out of touch with such things.

Briefly he contemplated leaving a message, but ultimately decided against it. In the back of his mind he knew that this was a one-time shot, knew himself well enough to know that he would not take the chance again for fear of being rejected.

His index finger was inches from disconnecting the call when the screen flared to life and a familiar, sleepy figure came into view. He hadn't even considered the time difference. It was the middle of the night on Couruscant.

"Qui-Gon Jinn," In stark contrast to his sleep rumpled appearance, the man was as imposing as ever, his voice every bit as commanding as he remembered.

He couldn't respond at first, just sat there looking at the screen. He saw the exact moment when recognition bled through familiar leonine features.

"Hello, Master." He wondered if his voice sounded as vulnerable as he felt. He knew he had no right to the title anymore, but found he simply could not refer to the man as anything less.

Qui-Gon's visible shift of emotions had his hope surging. Maybe he was doing the right thing. Maybe it was time to put the past to rest and move on.

Cautious, conflicted, but obviously willing his master addressed him with a warmth that soothed the deepest parts of his soul. His name became a word of welcome that he hoped would bridge the gap of time and bring them together once again.

"Xanatos."

 

The End.

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally meant to be a short story but the muse stalled once this scene was put to paper. The bedtime story Xanatos reads is based on one of my daughter's favorites, 'If You Give A Moose a Muffin'.


End file.
